


House In Order

by scousemuz1k



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scousemuz1k/pseuds/scousemuz1k
Summary: Takes place around 'Agent Afloat'. Vance forbids Gibbs to bring Tony home.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 135





	House In Order

House in Order

by scousemuz1k

AN: This is an idea that Binkeybella threw out on Creative Campfire, a writers’ FB group that we’re members of. I took it up; the reflective work between *s is, with very little tweaking to fit the timeline, what she gave me to work with.  
Not for Gibbs or Ziva fans.

Takes place around ‘Agent Afloat’ and assumes you’ve seen that episode.

The Director closed the file on his desk, and after a moment’s thought turned it over as a protection from prying eyes; the eyes concerned would be storming in through the door any minute, along with the rest of the man. Leaning back in his perfectly designed ergonomic chair, he linked his hands and stretched his arms high and behind him, until his spine popped. The sigh that followed was a combination of pleasure that his back felt much better, and something that bordered on depression at what he’d committed himself to. He could do it, of course… and he’d never thought it was going to be an easy ride, but now he was on the horse – well, the bronco was wilder than he’d thought.

Two conversations came back to him, as he rose and poured another coffee. 

SecNav…. ‘I’ll be expecting you to put your house in order, Leon; that’s why you’ve been chosen over the other assistant directors.’

‘You didn’t consider bringing someone in from outside?’

‘For a moment – but even if I hadn’t been looking to hide the mess from the rest of the alphabet, you’re still the best man for the job. You’ll take over just as soon as I find a way to discreetly relieve Jennifer Shepard of her responsibilities. The place needs a much stronger hand than she seems to be capable of giving it.’

He’d said the first thing that had come into his head. 

‘Gibbs?’

‘I was thinking more of information going where it shouldn’t be going, but yes, he’s a big part of the problem. Maybe a bigger problem than I can see from my distance. That’ll be for you to find out.’ He thought for a moment and grimaced. ‘Mmm… so’s his SIC, DiNozzo, but in a different way.’

‘How so?’

‘I’ll let you figure that out for yourself, too.’

He’d done so; and found himself just a tad wrong about DiNozzo. Gibbs… well, he’d found himself depressingly right. The long nights studying files in depth had been time well spent, although Jackie only partially agreed. He’d observed dynamics on a few low-key visits to the Navy Yard, and asked a few casual but skilfully (although he said it himself) angled questions. 

Now, his knowledge of personnel, not just from their jackets but from their case reports, was rivalled only by a grasp of protocols and procedures that had never really seemed necessary in his previous post. He knew, for instance that not a word of Gibbs’ reports was ever written by Gibbs, and it didn’t take him long to discount the odd idiomatics of Officer David, and the meticulous, IT heavy prose of Agent McGee as the true authors. How did Gibbs con DiNozzo into it? Then he recalled Ms Bromstead’s remark that DiNozzo did all the official paperwork for his team; at the time he’d wondered what she seemed to be trying to tell him. 

Well, by the time Jennifer Shepard’s untimely and dramatic death had catapulted him into the job rather earlier than he’d expected, he’d learned enough to prevent him making a huge mistake. Or several.

In depth? He snorted.

o0o0o

‘You’ll ruin your eyesight. And your brain will stop taking in what you’re reading.’ A mug of tantalisingly sweet-smelling hot chocolate had appeared close to his elbow. ‘Babe...’ his wife’s voice had been low and husky, ‘I am going to start withholding conjugal rights if you don’t start actually spending some time in our bed.’ 

She’d looked at him severely, with those warm, chocolaty eyes, but she’d looked so cosy and cute in the huge, fluffy robe and the unicorn slippers (bought by a kind aunt for Kayla, who’d been scandalised, and appropriated without a qualm by her mom) that even though he didn’t really believe her, he’d put the file down with a lame smile.

Jackie had turned back to the breakfast bar, picked up her own mug, and sat down opposite him. ‘Go on… I’ll wait… a bit.’

o0o0o

Vance smiled fondly at the memory, and then came back to the present with a guilty start. His face hardened; he had work to do. Gibbs would be up here as soon as he heard…

Damn it, DiNozzo could handle the case on his own, but the size of the task required that he didn’t. The truth was, that, as the members knew DiNozzo, Gibbs’ team was the right one to send; if he could have found another team available to take the case it wouldn’t have made sense anywhere but in his mind, but yes, there at least the future was clear. DiNozzo was not going back to Gibbs’ team – Vance had other, better ideas. Not firmed up yet, he still had some time – but DiNozzo was about to become embroiled in what Gibbs at least would see as a pissing war. He was going to have to figure something to convince the agent that he wasn’t just a pawn, if he wanted to keep him, which, for all his initial uncertainty, he did. So far as-

“Agent Gibbs is here, wishing to speak with you, Director.”

Vance smiled thinly – if the marine had tried to walk past Cynthia and fling the door open, he’d have more than likely sprained his wrist, as it was locked. Fortunately for Gibbs he had actually heeded the warning that if he tried to bypass the long-suffering PA one more time as he had when she worked for Shepard, and just storm in, he’d find himself with a written reprimand. Leon had no intention of being disrespected in that way, and he wasn’t having Cynthia treated like that either. He grunted to himself – one small post hammered in, in the long overdue corralling of L. J. Gibbs.

He braced himself, and tapped the door control. “Send him in please, Cynthia.”

o0o0o

The door opened politely enough, and Gibbs walked in politely enough, although it was clear his jaw was clenched.

“Leon, I want -”

“Agent Gibbs. Have a seat.”

Gibbs blinked, and dropped hard into the indicated chair with a huff. “I want -”

“Gibbs, I know what you want; now you have to listen to what NCIS needs.”

The marine blinked again. “You don’t -” 

“Yes, I do. You think you get to hear about the incident on the Seahawk before the Director does?”

Gibbs tried not to look peeved. “Then you know I need -”

“I know that I need to send someone to the ship; there’s too much for DiNozzo to do on his own – especially as he’ll be heading out to Cartagena to investigate the activity on the dead man’s credit card just as soon as he comes to a suitable pause in what he’s doing on board.”

Gibbs couldn’t see what the problem was, then. “You need to send me.”

“As it happens, I agree. You and Officer David will be leaving immediately.”

“Then why not just send for me and say so?” 

Vance raised an eyebrow to indicate displeasure, but didn’t offer a reproof. Later, maybe, right now he had other fish to fry. He shrugged, eloquently. “Oh, I knew you’d be up here PDQ, and I have other things to tell you.”

“Such as, Director?” Gibbs had noted the eyebrow, and opted for politeness.

“Such as, do not attempt to bring DiNozzo back.”

“What?” Gibbs surged out of his chair.

Vance leaned back in his. “You have two of your team back; I have other plans for DiNozzo.”

“He’s my Senior Field Agent!” 

Vance gave an exaggeratedly thoughtful look. “Yes… about that. He turned down his own team two years ago -”

Another, “What?”

“You didn’t know? Director Shepard offered him Rota, just after you came back from your ‘sabbatical’. Her report says he did an exemplary job while you were away; did you read it, by the way? He’s fluent in Spanish, had the leadership experience, no ties to keep him here… he was perfect for it. But he was worried you hadn’t got your memory back, so he stayed.”

Gibbs did know, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He was peeved that Leon knew, though.

“And two years down the line, he’s still doing your paperwork, trying to teach and work with two juniors who think they’re as good as him and with you keeping him on a string with ‘You belong here, you’re the one I want to take over from me when I retire, DiNozzo’. How long are you going to make that string, Gibbs? Do you know? Does he? D’you think he ever regrets the decision?”

Vance saw the evasion slide across Gibbs’ face, and didn’t expect an answer. 

Attack is the best form of covering your ass. Gibbs attacked. “And you know all this how?”

“And you know all this how, Director. I don’t have to explain to you, Gibbs – especially as you seem to be doubting my word – but I’ll just tell you that SecNav was planning to remove Jennifer Shepard because he wasn’t satisfied with the job she was doing – and I knew for a while that I was going to be the next Director; so I used my time well.”

The Director waited for Gibbs to digest that, then went on, “I was appointed to get this house in order, I intend to, and this was always on my list.” He shrugged again. “It’s just come earlier than I expected… much like my appointment, I suppose.”

Gibbs glowered. “What was always on your list, Director?”

Now it was Vance’s turn to answer with a question. “D’you blame DiNozzo for her death?”

Shortly. “No.”

“Mmm. Have you told him so?” 

“Yes.”

“Mmm. Were you as convincing then as you just were with me?”

“He should -”

“No, he shouldn’t have, Gibbs. He obeyed orders. Probably remembered how she screwed him over last time he got involved in one of her schemes. To answer your question - if he comes back to you he’s a wasted resource from my point of view, and no, that doesn’t mean I see him as a commodity. He’s doing a damn good job on that ship, and if he thinks he’s there as a punishment, that did not come from me. It’s a promotion, even if he doesn’t see it that way yet. He’s there to get self-confidence - “

“For Pete’s sake, Leon, he’s got enough self-confidence for the entire agency!” 

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you. Maybe you should talk to Dr Mallard – after you come back from the Seahawk. He’s gone to learn that he can stand alone, and when he’s done that, it’s a path to better things..”

“Better than leading the MCRT one day?”

Vance actually laughed. “Gibbs, he could do that any time, still may one day - without having to do your paperwork for another ten years. Leadership of the MCRT, and when, is not yours to bestow.”

Gibbs had been leaning, stiff armed, on the Director’s desk. It finally dawned on him that the attempted intimidation wasn’t impressing its intended victim. A look of alarm crossed his face briefly, and he stepped back. “I want him back, Leon -”

“No you don’t, Gibbs. Not particularly. You just want to get one past me. Not going to happen.” Vance frowned, and a musing look furrowed his forehead. “I started out thinking the agency needed fewer agents like DiNozzo… lord knows I couldn’t cope with more than one… but like I said, I have things in mind for him.”

“So you’re just going to take my SFA to bug me?”

Vance gave an exaggerated look up to heaven. “It’s a pity they don’t make hearing aids for selective deafness, Gibbs. I’m taking him for what I just said. This isn’t about you. But if you want to make it so, let me just assure you that this isn’t a pissing match between you and me. No point in starting one, because you won’t win. Your flight leaves within the hour. Either to the ship or to Cartagena, depending where DiNozzo needs you when you arrive. Do the job, come back. Without DiNozzo. You have my permission to explain to him what I’ve said if you like. Bring him back and you’ll have three choices – retire, resign or be fired.”

o0o0o 

Questions asked, answers given, some useful stuff, maybe – Tony had said his thanks. He began to move away from the table where the group of sailors still sat, cards in hands and angelically innocent looks on their faces, nickels and dimes well out of sight. He paused, stopped altogether, and turned back. The one slightly glum and resentful expression he’d noticed was bothering him. He slid into the chair he’d been offered when he’d declined the invitation to sit in on the game, so as not to loom over the guys, who’d been pleasant so far. They waited, curiously.

“Look, guys… you know why playing for money’s not allowed, don’t you?”

Kaplan nodded, easily enough. “Makes it gambling.”

“In one. Gambling debts aren’t enforceable by law. By fists, yes. Or if you’re on land, by getting in hock to a drug dealer or some such low-life. I know you guys only play for dimes, but -” 

“Yeah,” another man said ruefully, “Other guys might not. So no exceptions”

“You got it,” Tony agreed. “Banning card games would be bad for morale, and I wouldn’t if I could. I’m just not that much of a shit.” There were, to his surprise, a few murmurs of demurral that sounded genuine enough.. “But playing for cash is dangerous. You know… starts with dimes… Like drink on board. I find a stash, I make them pour it overboard, while their friends watch, then they have to take the bottles to the recycling point. And then, they have to report to the Exec, who decides what nasty thing he’s going to do to them.”

They all laughed, except for the sad guy.

“Don’t have a problem with that,” Kaplan said. “But see, Wilson here…”- he indicated the lieutenant with the glum expression - “he just got a care package. He knows if we don’t play for dimes, we’ll be playing for his gummy bears.”

“Ah,” Tony said sadly. “I feel your pain. Save me one.” He rose and turned to go. “No exceptions, guys.”

Wilson huffed a sigh. “Sure,” he said resignedly. “Sit in next time, you might win them all.”

Tony huffed as soon as he was out of sight and earshot. He knew how Lieutenant Wilson felt, and wondered if losing your candies was any less of a deal than losing the confidence of, and in your boss. 

Well, now for Cartagena. Pausing only to grab his weapon and a jacket so that his appearance didn’t scream ‘shore leave off big Americano ship,’ he headed for the flight deck – with a bit of luck he could be aboard the COD before Gibbs showed up. Let the Captain deal with him for a while; DiNozzo wasn’t sure he was ready to yet. He almost wished Vance wasn’t sending him. He tried to think during the flight, case, credit card, brutally dead wife, still wrapped toothbrush, and not the call six days ago….

o0o0o

*It had been an eye opener…

Though he’d initially been thrilled to find Gibbs and Probie on the other end of the video chat, his feelings had devolved quickly into confusion, and then to a physical pain in his chest. He’d read it in his former boss’s eyes – through the seeming amusement there had glinted a lack of engagement that spoke of finality. Although he smiled, Tony’s words were having no effect on him. He wasn’t coming home. 

He’d allowed himself a small prediction: Gibbs would demand, attempting to assert his authority; Vance would refuse – probably threaten Gibbs’ own position – and Gibbs would cave in a wave of self-interest.

He guessed he should have expected it, after the Grenouille disaster, and even worse, Jenny’s ugly demise in the desert. He’d screwed the pooch on that op, and although Gibbs had seemed indifferent to the red-head in the months before her death, DiNozzo could tell the man still had some sort of feelings for her, even if it was just holding on to a nostalgia for a more exciting, but less complicated past. Both Gibbs and the new director were mad at him.

Oh, he knew it wasn’t on the scale of Gibbs’ grief for his wife and daughter; but the man could hold a helluva grudge if he decided he’d been wronged in some way – the long estrangement with his own father held testament to that. 

Tony sighed… The fact that the number of emails from Abby had begun to dwindle gave him another clue that he’d been choosing to ignore. At first he’d thought she must be overwhelmed with work, but Jimmy had innocently told him that there were no big cases piling up, in fact they’d all been out clubbing a couple of times since Ziva and McGee had rejoined the team. And hadn’t that little tidbit been a kick in the cojones. He’d chosen not to think about that either, but it would creep up on him when he wasn’t expecting it – usually at night when he was bored out of his skull and homesick, and around the time the now cosy little group would be heading out for a fun evening.

Yeah, yeah, he was being maudlin and dramatic, and he knew he didn’t have to have any of them in his life to survive – but he’d gotten used to it, liked it, found a comfort zone in their dysfunctional family(ish) relationship. Hell, he’d been working at the Navy Yard two years longer than he’d been in college – a record for him.

And Gibbs – well, he supposed he could try untangling that particular Gordian knot – but what was the point? He’d clearly been photo-shopped out of the family picture. His need to understand why he’d been cut out wasn’t ever going to be answered – Gibbs would stonewall him, and the others would circle the wagons. Jimmy would support him – but like Gibbs was ever going to explain anything to the Autopsy Gremlin; Ducky would be far too torn between friendships with both of them for Tony to ever ask him.

He’d given his heart and soul to the agency, been true to its oath. It had had his blood, sweat, tears, and the lining of his lungs. He’d worked holidays without being asked, and clocked up more overtime than could possibly be legal – to be rewarded by smacks round the head from Gibbs, many of them a little too forceful, and mostly undeserved. He’d followed the chain of command and let himself be cornered into a highly suspect undercover op which had nearly cost him his life, not to mention his self-respect, and left him with a psyche in tatters.

He’d worked twenty-two hour days, and certainly contributed as much as his boss and the probie, and certainly more than the assassin/spy turned, only heaven and Jenny knew why, crime scene investigator.*

The plane slowed and banked; it was on its approach. Did he need to know the whys and wherefores? Did he need any of it? Stop. Think about the job. The credit card… he knew exactly where he was going to start. He’d finish the case, then talk to Vance. Give him one chance to make things right. Preferably far away from DC.

It might have surprised him to know that Gibbs was also sitting on a plane, thinking about the same video call.

o0o0o

**Hey… he refused to feel guilty. He’d known even then that things were going to be different under the new director; he was quite prepared to fight his corner, but if that didn’t work, he was entitled to protect himself. He wondered if DiNozzo had seen it in his face – he always was able to read him. 

So, the grin and throwaway agreement with McGee that Tony was crazy had bothered him, but a moment later he’d forgotten about it, as second thoughts about what he’d just done had actually physically hurt; sending a spike of pain up through his gut to his solar plexus. He’d pushed it down and away, just like he’d done his second in command, because he was who he was, and that person had an iron streak going through him that allowed him to justify ‘most every decision he’d ever made, no matter what the consequences.

Ziva sat beside him, composed, hands in her lap, thinking her own thoughts. She said not a word, and Gibbs wondered if it was because it was too noisy, or she knew he wouldn’t want to talk, or if she disapproved of something. She couldn’t be reading his thoughts, though. He snorted to himself, not quietly enough that she didn’t hear; she glanced at him sideways, but still said nothing. 

Collateral damage. He’d seen and caused his fair share of it; what was a little more in the grand scheme of things? DiNozzo wasn’t a kid any more, he could deal with it, and the way his ships’ commanders had been speaking of him he was making a great impression as Agent Afloat. He’d heard that even the crew (other than the stashers of illegal booze) seemed to like him for the most part, which was fairly rare for a cop in close quarters to so many sailors who could turn into suspects in an instant.

It was good for him, Gibbs assured himself. A stepping stone to promotion – hell, this was a promotion, wasn’t it? Then a team of his own… When Gibbs had found out that Jenny had already offered Dinozzo Rota, and he’d turned it down, he’d stubbornly refused to feel even a scrap of guilt over the lost prize. If the guy wasn’t smart enough, or was too chicken to grab a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, when it was offered to him on a plate, how was it Gibbs’ fault? **

The small voice that said he’d been glad enough to keep the best young agent he’d ever worked with was ruthlessly suppressed; Jenny’s advice that he should tell DiNozzo he’d done a good job was ignored in the same way. At the time, he’d wanted to keep DiNozzo – the kid was doing all the work he’d forgotten how to do – why would he want to tell him something that might make him confident enough to leave?

A couple of months later, after some silly crack at his SFC’s expense, he’d been informed by a furious Ducky just what was the truth of the matter, and the true size of the sacrifice Tony had made for him. That had brought him some guilt, but he’d decided that the easiest thing was to say nothing, DiNozzo would only have been embarrassed. Hadn’t he said something about he didn’t like nice Gibbs? Not that he’d ever been able to figure out what his second meant, but hey, take him at his word. 

He’d put it all out of his mind, and things had gone back to normal; him back in charge and the rest of the team asking how high when he said jump.

When the frogspawn had hit the fan, something had changed with DiNozzo anyway; he no longer jumped quite so high or so eagerly. Gibbs chose to interpret it as faltering loyalty and challenging his leadership, not as disillusionment and a broken heart.

Vance had made his position clear; if Gibbs wanted to keep his job and his power – and hell yes, he did – he couldn’t keep a SFA who was probably half way out of the door anyway.

The aircraft was descending smoothly, not dropping hard and throttling back for a carrier deck landing; Ziva was quite pleased. She could tolerate such things, but she didn’t have to like them. She spoke for the first time on the flight.

“I believe we are arriving in Cartagena,” she said neutrally.

o0o0o

Job done. Case closed. They watched from the bridge as the returning aircraft, hitting the deck, was caught by the wire and came to a rapid halt. Tony began to turn away, and Ziva said sharply, “Are you not coming to meet Gibbs with his prisoner?”

He smiled benignly. “It doesn’t need two of us, Ziva. I still have things that need to be done. You go.” 

Although she looked distinctly put out that he wasn’t falling into line, she went with the young ensign who had instantly stepped forward to show her the way down to the deck.

As Tony began to turn away again, Captain Owens stopped him. “Nice work, Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony smiled wryly, and began to make some sort of deprecating remark, but the Captain drew him to one side.

“No, I mean it. And if I hadn’t held you up, you would have been the one on that aircraft. It would have been your take-down. Gibbs does like to be the king-pin, doesn’t he?”

“It’s his way. If I’d taken Henley down, there’d be some justification for me to return to DC with him - “

“Hell, no! I’m keeping my Agent Afloat. Difficult job, being one cop for three thousand people! I know when I’ve got a good thing going.”

Another weary, wry smile made him think he needed to take a bit more interest in his cop; the best he’d had in a long while, in spite of, he knew, being thrown on board at a moment’s notice, in somewhat problematical circumstances. Come on, Richard, the well-being of everyone on board is your responsibility. 

“That’s OK, Captain, I’ve every intention of fulfilling my assignment here.” (He had no idea how surprised DiNozzo was to hear those words coming out of his own mouth.)

“Good to know.” He paused. “Agent DiNozzo, I can read sign. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and why he doesn’t think you should be going back, but if you ever want to talk I’ll listen. Should have said so before.”

This time the smile was a bit more relaxed. “I appreciate that, Sir. I’d better get on.” He headed off towards his office, leaving Owens looking after him pensively.

o0o0o

Tony pushed his office door half-shut with his heel, and leaned against the wall. That had been an interesting exchange… seemed the Captain approved of him, and it appeared that he’d made his decision without even realising it. 

Why had he fallen back into old habits so easily? Smiling like a loon when Gibbs and Ziva first appeared in Cartagena? (After he’d left instructions for them to be flown to the ship… if he’d said Cartagena then undoubtedly Gibbs would have insisted on the Seahawk). 

And stuttering about the lack of a Plan B when he was confident that Plan A would work? Of course Gibbs would criticise – would hell freeze over if he were to find a word of approval? Tony tried to remember if he’d had even one since the two of them had appeared. Well… Ziva had told him to stop whining, so no change there.

He’d managed to stay polite when she’d reminded him about Jenny; he’d managed to stay polite when she’d asked about his drinking… ‘I haven’t had a drink while I’ve been here in Cartagena, Ziva, I’m on duty. And I work on a dry ship. Do you think I confiscate illicit booze and drink it myself?’ He thought for a moment, then took the pictures of her down from the wall, and put them, face down, in the bottom of his desk. He wasn’t so churlish as to screw them up. 

Enough. He had the rest of his life ahead of him.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, steadying his breathing, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes. He shook himself, picked up the jacket he’d worn ashore, took something from it, and put it, with some difficulty as it was quite a large pack, into the pocket of his pants. He was just stepping out of the door, and closing it behind him, when Gibbs and Ziva came round the corner. 

“Hi Gibbs, good call.”

“Hmm. Kaplan’s innocent. He was just someone who could recognise him.” There was that glint in Gibbs’ eyes again as he spoke. He knew his next words were going to cause a storm, and he was ready for it. “You’ll send me your report?”

Tony frowned, and Gibbs took a deep breath, prepared to deliver whatever slap-down was necessary to make him understand what was happening.

“Uh, no, Gibbs, my ship. My case. You and Ziva have to send me your reports.”

He was almost ashamed of the surge of unholy joy he felt at the non-plussed expression that crossed Gibbs’ face. Almost.

The Marine frowned. Wasn’t DiNozzo listening? “You do understand? Vance told me not to bring you back to DC.”

Of all the strange things, Tony laughed, as a shocked Ziva looked uncomprehendingly from one man to the other. 

“Vance hasn’t addressed a word to me personally since that day in his office when he sent me here. Hmm… he might have said something to Captain Owens – he just asked me if I was staying. I said of course, why not.” He glanced at his watch. “Have they told you how long it’ll take to turn the COD round? You probably need to get to the flight deck soon. Thanks for the help; bye Gibbs, bye Ziva. Remember me to the others. I’ve got to find a few people.” 

He waited until he was around several corners before letting his breath out in a whoosh, his head reeling. What do you know - getting rid of that anticipatory look in Gibbs’ eyes really had been all the compensation he’d needed for the crap he’d put up with for so long. Yep, he had the rest of his life ahead of him.

He went in search of Lieutenant Wilson, and was told he was in the sick bay, visiting Kaplan.  
The injured man was conscious, but not exerting himself much, just yet. After the normal pleasantries, Wilson explained, “Jonah and me are buddies, and he’s the only patient right now; so I got special permission to stay with him so Doc Nguyen can get some rest cuz he’s not well. Never let it be said Seahawkers don’t look out for each other.”

Kaplan nodded drowsily. “Thanks for getting me out of that cupboard before it killed me, Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony laughed. “Like you said, we look out for each other.” He didn’t tell the man he’d been a suspect for a while. He stuck his hand into his pocket, and withdrew the pack he’d forced into it, and tossed it to Wilson. “Here… I found this in Cartagena. If you like Gummy Bears, you’ll love these.” It was a pack of an English confection, Jelly Babies. “Just stay legal!” He headed back to his office to do some thinking.

o0o0o

Ziva tried to catch up with Gibbs as he strode along the narrow passageways, but she had no chance. He had no intention of letting her bombard him with questions he had no intention of answering. The young bastard had got one over on him… he knew, dammit, he knew! And he’d robbed Gibbs of one of the few chances he was going to get from now on to display his power. He’d been looking forward to putting him in his place, and DiNozzo had played him at his own game, with complete ease. The cocky kid hadn’t even come to the deck to see them off! And a small, Shannon-type voice in his mind was growing louder all the time; ‘You had it coming, Jethro. You had it coming.’

He slammed up the steps and onto the aircraft, never a thought of letting Ziva go first, and threw himself into a netting seat so hard it twanged. Ziva gave him one sideways look, decided it was going to be another long, silent trip, and sat down some distance away.

o0o0o

It was the same chair he’d been sitting in, gazing blearily into the same screen as when he’d talked to Gibbs, and felt the wheels of his life beginning to turn. He repeated his mantra, ‘I have the rest of my life ahead of me’… as the screen came to life.

“Good morning, Sir.” The Seahawk had moved now to a position where she was one hour behind DC, so whilst the Director might be comfortable with coffee in hand at 8.30, for Tony it was an hour earlier, after a very busy time the previous day. Good job he was used to early starts, and this one was going to be a bit different...

“Good morning. DiNozzo, what the hell is this?”

Tony answered the rhetorical question patiently.

“Well, Sir, it’s my resignation from NCIS, effective the day after my tour of duty on Seahawk ends, in ten weeks time. I’d have supplied the actual date, but I’d have to ask Miz Bromstead, which is difficult, but I trust her to put the correct one in.”

“I can see what it is, DiNozzo, but what I want to know is why?”

Tony opted for bluntness – after all, what did he have to fear now?

“Haven’t felt either welcome or useful at NCIS for a while now Sir, and I’m sick of being the butt of everyone else’s secret agendas.”

Vance felt a slight frisson of guilt skidding across his own conscience, so he went for the first point. “Agent DiNozzo, I had highly satisfactory reports of your work from the Ronald Reagan, and Captain Owens thinks very highly of you in your current posting; how can you say you’re not useful?”

“Well, yes, he told me that yesterday; before that I’d barely spoken to him. If nobody tells me anything, I’m not going to know, am I? With respect, Sir,” (barely) “this is the first time you’ve spoken to me since I was sent Agent Afloat, and it seems to be because I’m quitting.”

“DiNozzo, you know Assistant Director Harz deals directly with all agents not on American soil. But this… Look, I sent you to the Reagan to get you away from Gibbs; you were wasted on his team, I wanted you to gain your independence.” He laughed sardonically. “You’ve certainly done that – he came back last night with a face like thunder. I have bigger and better things in mind for you.”

He waited for the face on the MTAC screen to brighten, and was surprised to see hardly a flicker. It didn’t occur to him that DiNozzo knew he was on the big screen, where every pore and line could be seen in sharp detail, and every expression read. 

“Gibbs didn’t tell you that? I gave him permission to, to explain why I wouldn’t let him bring you back.”

“Again, Sir, nobody told me. You can’t think that Gibbs would have told me anything that showed me up in a good light and him not so much? Not his way.” He sighed, and looked at Vance levelly. “It’s no use having a bigger and better agenda for me, if I don’t know about it.” Vance winced a little at the way that word ‘agenda’ was stressed. He realised that however new to the job he was, however keen to do it well, he was just as bad as the rest of them in DiNozzo’s eyes.

“Hmm. I can see this has been troubling you for a while…” Vance wrote something on a notepad, then threw his pen down decisively. “I want to offer you the lead of the European Field Office in Naples. Your dossier says you’re fluent in Italian and Spanish… and you’ve been studying German while you’ve been afloat. And I don’t doubt for a moment that you have the ability to lead. Would you consider that?”

Tony would have leaned back in his chair and stretched, if it had been stable enough. He wanted to snark that just because he had an Italian name and spoke the language didn’t actually make him interested in Italy, but that wouldn’t be fair to Italy, and he wasn’t actually spiteful by nature. If the new Director had been up-front with him in the first place, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Now, he paused for a long time.

“I’ll finish my posting,” he said finally, “and I’ll think about it. If I decide yes, I won’t keep you waiting. If you find someone else in the meantime, just tell me. I’m not going anywhere or doing anything where I lay myself open to being screwed with any more. That’s all I can say really.” He paused again. “Was Gibbs really mad?”

“Oh yes.”

“Good,” Tony said. “I’ll.. er, be in touch.”

“You do that,” Vance said, and they both broke the connection at the same moment.

o0o0o

There weren’t many places on the carrier, in spite of its size, where you could simply lean on a railing and watch the sea, so Tony was very surprised, as he let the fresh air and the motion of the ship blow the cobwebs off, to be joined by of all people, the Captain.

“Sir!”

“You sound surprised.”

“I would have expected you to send for me, Sir.”

Owens laughed. “You’re off duty, if there is such a thing. So am I. Needed some fresh air, and I wanted to thank you. There was no point in dragging you up to my office for that.”

Tony knew what the Captain wanted to thank him for, and just shook his head. “Not a problem, Sir. Just complicated… Vance tells you you can’t have your new Agent Afloat until two weeks after my tour’s up. So you tell him you want to keep me for those two weeks, he has to ask me, I say yes, then he has to tell you, so you can talk to me.”

Owens nodded. “It’s how it’s done. But I am grateful to you; it keeps the continuity, particularly after you agreed to another three days to help your successor with the handover. I thought you’d be desperate to get off the ship.”

Again, the Agent Afloat shook his head. “I realised in the end that it was why I was here that was getting to me, not the actual being here. And now I’m not bothered by that, there’s no problem.” 

The Captain gave him a long look, accepted it as the truth, and nodded. He took a deep breath, but Tony stalled him, with a wry smile.

“Sir, it’s fine. I‘ve appreciated being able to talk to you these last few weeks. It’s helped a lot.”

“Well that’s good. Wish I’d done something earlier…. So… have you come to any conclusions?”

This time the smile was huge. “Actually, Sir, it was the extra two and a bit weeks that was the clincher.”

“I can’t imagine how that can be,” Captain Owens said, mystified.

“Well, I had a few options. I decided as soon as I’d spoken to Vance that my resignation stood. You know why; and FBI or police work didn’t appeal for the same reason. I thought of going off to be a beach bum in Hawaii or somewhere,” the Captain snorted with laughter, “then I happened to mention to an old friend that I was going to be at a loose end, and turns out he needs a younger partner on his horse ranch up in Oregon. Well, that appeals, I’ll get on fine with him and his family, always have done, love the state, but I still felt as if I needed to let off steam.”

“And being a beach bum won’t hack it?”

“Nah… not really. But a rock band on the road might…”

Owens blinked, and laughed. “I believe it might,” he said in the end. “How are you going to do that?”

“Frat brother – they’re kind of semi-famous – his keyboards guy has broken his shoulder, and they start out on tour ten days after I finish my tour here.”

“You play keyboards?”

“And guitar, and I’m useful for extra vocals. Three months on the road, then Oregon.”

The Captain took in his Agent Afloat’s blazing smile, and saw a truly happy man for the first time.

He nodded and returned the smile. “Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “that could work”.

THE END

I'm sorry, I haven't a clue about the formatting, so all my italics and bold have disappeared. Never mind...


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